[It's too easy, returning to the small gestures that they used to pepper throughout their friendship: a pat on the floor, a punch on the shoulder, a nudge on the arm. It feels familiar, nearly comfortable, in how easily Satoru delivers it and Suguru accepts it — in how, for the span of a breath, it almost feels like they've gone back in time.
But whereas before these gestures were delivered without thought — whereas Satoru did not hinge his actions on proposals and considerations, but merely moved on impulse — now there exists a layer of time and space between them. They are separated by the infinite — still severed by all the choices they made before, and all the choices they will make in the future. One request will not bridge that gap; one proposal will not allow Suguru through Satoru's barrier. One agreement will not erase the past.
Because Satoru hasn't, and will not, lose sight of the fact that Suguru is an enemy. The still-present trust he holds for Suguru is fragile, layered with contingencies, and based entirely upon what he knows Suguru will not do — rather than what he will. Because Suguru is still a curse user, murderer, and Satoru's enemy. Because he knows that Suguru is weighing his options and thinking about what it will mean, when Satoru ends a long day with a pounding headache, tired, with no one to keep watch while he recharges.
And that's why Satoru has broached this topic now, before Suguru learns all there is to know about Sukuna, and before Satoru reaches his limit. If Satoru can protect the people on this train by teaming up with Suguru, pulling him from the opposite side to stand along with him, however temporarily, then Satoru can conserve the energy he would use on keeping tabs on him — and put it toward the other threats on this train, and to the overall goal of escape.
He remembers Suguru in his final moments. He remembers Suguru in the in between, drenched in rain. He remembers Suguru as a student. And he hears the muffled ting of a bell that is familiar, somehow — out of place, distant, but audible enough that Satoru's mind identifies it as significant.
And he knows, somewhere inside of Suguru's twisted, broken sense of morality, there remains fractured pieces of what once was.
That ting does not echo; it is cut off, hidden, replaced with blunt words — but Satoru will remember it.]
I don't think my friend wants to work with me.
[Spoken vaguely, it could mean either "friend" in question: the King of Curses, who wants to make good on his promise to kill Satoru, or Suguru himself, who identifies Satoru's proposal for the admission of vulnerability that it is, and spares no words in pointing it out.]
But that's a mistake.
[Because Satoru may be weak and limited in what he can do here, he may be restrained in this room by being unable to see, and may still feel that sense of fondness for what once was, the ting of memory, but he is still capable of fighting — he will still use the power he does have. And while a match between Suguru and himself may be more equal now than it would have been at any time in the decade that they were apart, there is one stark, painful truth that remains between them:
Satoru has killed Suguru before. If Suguru forces his hand, he will kill him again.
And he will grieve him again.
Satoru stands. His ability to navigate the museum is compromised, but he transitions to give Suguru a way out. He's lain the cards he wants to show out on the table, and now Suguru must decide his next play.
He stretches, rolling his neck and folding his hands behind his head, nearly taking out a display case in the process — unconcerned about whatever may be caught by his carelessness.]
Either way, things are about to get a lot more fun.
no subject
But whereas before these gestures were delivered without thought — whereas Satoru did not hinge his actions on proposals and considerations, but merely moved on impulse — now there exists a layer of time and space between them. They are separated by the infinite — still severed by all the choices they made before, and all the choices they will make in the future. One request will not bridge that gap; one proposal will not allow Suguru through Satoru's barrier. One agreement will not erase the past.
Because Satoru hasn't, and will not, lose sight of the fact that Suguru is an enemy. The still-present trust he holds for Suguru is fragile, layered with contingencies, and based entirely upon what he knows Suguru will not do — rather than what he will. Because Suguru is still a curse user, murderer, and Satoru's enemy. Because he knows that Suguru is weighing his options and thinking about what it will mean, when Satoru ends a long day with a pounding headache, tired, with no one to keep watch while he recharges.
And that's why Satoru has broached this topic now, before Suguru learns all there is to know about Sukuna, and before Satoru reaches his limit. If Satoru can protect the people on this train by teaming up with Suguru, pulling him from the opposite side to stand along with him, however temporarily, then Satoru can conserve the energy he would use on keeping tabs on him — and put it toward the other threats on this train, and to the overall goal of escape.
He remembers Suguru in his final moments. He remembers Suguru in the in between, drenched in rain. He remembers Suguru as a student. And he hears the muffled ting of a bell that is familiar, somehow — out of place, distant, but audible enough that Satoru's mind identifies it as significant.
And he knows, somewhere inside of Suguru's twisted, broken sense of morality, there remains fractured pieces of what once was.
That ting does not echo; it is cut off, hidden, replaced with blunt words — but Satoru will remember it.]
I don't think my friend wants to work with me.
[Spoken vaguely, it could mean either "friend" in question: the King of Curses, who wants to make good on his promise to kill Satoru, or Suguru himself, who identifies Satoru's proposal for the admission of vulnerability that it is, and spares no words in pointing it out.]
But that's a mistake.
[Because Satoru may be weak and limited in what he can do here, he may be restrained in this room by being unable to see, and may still feel that sense of fondness for what once was, the ting of memory, but he is still capable of fighting — he will still use the power he does have. And while a match between Suguru and himself may be more equal now than it would have been at any time in the decade that they were apart, there is one stark, painful truth that remains between them:
Satoru has killed Suguru before. If Suguru forces his hand, he will kill him again.
And he will grieve him again.
Satoru stands. His ability to navigate the museum is compromised, but he transitions to give Suguru a way out. He's lain the cards he wants to show out on the table, and now Suguru must decide his next play.
He stretches, rolling his neck and folding his hands behind his head, nearly taking out a display case in the process — unconcerned about whatever may be caught by his carelessness.]
Either way, things are about to get a lot more fun.
[Fun, deadly, dangerous —
like old times.]